


A Good Kind Of Strange

by fangirl_squee



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/M, Love Confessions, background Minkowski/Kouldelka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:52:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6155770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doug and Hera get married, have their first dance, and their first meeting. It’s a little out of order, but that suits them just fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Kind Of Strange

**Author's Note:**

> based on these tweets (https://twitter.com/madeline_starr/status/703634929171701761), and cowritten, by Maddie and beta-ed by the wonderful Sophie.

Their descent to Earth was going … okay. Well, it was going okay considering they couldn’t really control their re-entry speed, or their trajectory. And that the shuttle’s thermal controls were intermittently going offline, so they’d be lucky if the entire shuttle interior didn’t burst into flames before they hit the ground. And that the various shuttle problems had been causing loud, constant alarms with no way for Hera to silence them. And that, as the Earth had come into view, the shuttle’s lighting had turned off for no apparent reason, plunging them into the dim red ‘emergency’ lighting as they fumbled for the re-entry controls.

So.

Considering those factors, Minkowski thought their re-entry was going okay.

There was a teeth-rattling scraping sound as another small hull panel flew off.

“Chance of survival now at 53%,” said Hera.

“Yes, thank you, Hera,” said Minkowski, as she tried to get the craft to slow down in the hopes that it would buy them some time to navigate (or at least warn the part of Earth they were about to crash into).

Beside her, Lovelace was attempting to get navigation back online, switching between the manual controls and fixing the wiring. In Minkowski’s peripheral vision, she could see the wires sparking. She hoped it was something Lovelace was doing on purpose and not another sign the shuttle was falling apart.

“What’s our post-landing plan again?” said Doug, slightly muffled from where he was under the communications array, trying to get them online.

“Considering how much trouble we are having with pre-landing plan, I don’t think now is time to focus too much on the future,” said Hilbert.

Doug slid out partially to look up at Minkowski. “Yeah, but … how worried should we that our ‘welcome home’ party is going to include weaponry?”

“Very,” said Lovelace, not looking away from her screen.

“And what about Hera?” said Doug.

“They’ll probably take her when they confiscate the shuttle,” said Lovelace.

“Captain Lovelace,” said Minkowski, with a sigh.

This conversation had been bubbling under the surface of all their return-to-Earth plans since they’d started, but Minkowski had hoped that if they’d avoided it this long they might be able to keep that going for the last half-hour. Doug’s hopefulness about a normal life post-return butting up against Lovelace’s decidedly grim views of Goddard’s post-mission employee program was not something she had the patience to diffuse right now.

“I mean,” continued Doug, unfazed by the interruption, “us crash landing on a to-be-announced part of the planet is probably going to be pretty big news. What are they going to do, just kidnap her in front of a bunch of reporters?”

“It’s Goddard,” said Lovelace, typing slightly more aggressively than she had before, “they think they can do whatever they want.”

“But she’s part of the crew!”

“Not legally,” said Hilbert, “you would need stronger legal connection to have claim over Goddard.”

“Like … a better contract?”

Hilbert paused from where he was trying to bring the temperature down and looked over at Eiffel. “Yes. But I do not think -”

The shuttle jolted and Minkowski gripped the control panel with one hand to steady herself while she typed.

“Now is _not_ the time for a philosophical discussion you two,” said Minkowski.

“It’s not philosophical!” said Eiffel, “I’m working on a plan here.”

“I’d _prefer_ it if you were working on the communications panel.”

“I’ve got it!”

“You’ve got the comms working?”

“No, better, way better!” Doug slid fully out from under the communication panel, looking up at the ceiling where Hera’s optic sensor was installed. “Hera, you should marry me!”

Minkowski, Lovelace, and Hilbert turned to look towards Eiffel, who was still staring up at Hera’s optic sensor. The lights flickered back online.

“...Is that a yes?” said Eiffel.

“Of-ficer Effiel,” said Hera, “I’m sure you can think of a bett-ter legal pathway if you’re trying to protect me. I can’t ask you to-”

“You’re not asking me to do anything, _I’m_ the one asking _you_ ,” said Eiffel, his hands fiddling with his jumpsuit pockets, “and you haven’t answered my question.”

“This is a very strange way to try and protect me Officer Eiff-fel,” said Hera, after a moment.

“It’s not just to protect you!” said Eiffel, “I love you!”

Minkowski rubbed a hand over her face. “Of all the moments to do this, you pick _now_?”

“No time like the present,” said Eiffel, “especially because we’re plummeting to our 47% likely deaths.”

“Offi-cer Eiffel -” began Hera.

“Hera, I swear, I love you, and I know this isn’t the most conventional thing and this probably isn’t the best time to say it -”

“Officer Eiffel -”

“I mean, ideally, I’d take you to this tiny hole-in-the-wall place around the corner from my old apartment, and then we’d go to the beach and watch the sunset, and then I’d ask you, just the whole deal, which you fully deserve, even though I’m not totally sure how I’d be able to get you to either of those places -”

“ _Officer Eiffel_ -”

“But we’d make it work! Babe, I swear, we could find a way! They’ve got to have developed an automated house or something by now, right? Or we could build one, you’re smart enough to do it, and -”

“ _Doug_!” said Hera, “I love you, too.”

Eiffel’s jaw snapped shut. He grinned sheepishly up at Hera. “So is that a yes?”

Hera’s laugh was a burbley-staticy sound. “Of _c-course_ it’s a yes.”

“Lovelace,” said Eiffel, “Quick, before we land, you have to officiate!”

“Me? Why _me_?”

“You’re a captain and this is a ship, you can officiate weddings!”

“Eiffel, that’s only for boat captains,” said Minkowski.

Eiffel waved a hand. “Semantics. Will you do it?”

Lovelace looked at the control panel, with its many, _many_ blinking warning lights and then back at Eiffel. “Sure, let’s make this quick.”

“Need witnesses for this to be legal,” said Hilbert.

“Thanks for volunteering!” said Eiffel, cheerfully, “Minkowski, will you be my best man?”

Despite the blaring warning alarms, imminent potential demise, and inherent ridiculousness of the situation, Minkowski felt a lump in her throat.

“Of course,” she managed.

“Dearly beloved,” began Lovelace, and then faltered as the shuttle groaned under pressure. “Maybe I’ll speed this up a bit.”

There was another grinding noise as another piece of the hull peeled off under the re-entry pressure.

“Good idea,” said Minkowski.

“Douglas Eiffel, do you take Hera to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“Yes, definitely, absolutely,” said Doug, his grin even wider than before. 

“Hera, um,” Lovelace thought for a moment. “Hera Hephaestus, do you take Doug to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 

“Yes,” said Hera.

“Then I pronounce you man and wife. I’d say you should kiss the bride, but working out the logistics of that might take a while and we’re really reaching an all-hands-on-deck type of situation.”

Doug kissed his fingertips and touched them to the control panel. “That’ll have to do for now.”

The interior lights flickered back off again.

“Hera?” said Minkowski.

The interior lights flickered back on.

“Sorry, sorry!” said Hera, “I was… I got momentarily distracted, it won’t happen again Com-mmander.”

“Save it for the honeymoon, you two,” said Lovelace, “Eiffel, we’ve got twenty more minutes until impact and I’d like it if the people we were impacting got a little warning about it.”

“Yessir,” said Eiffel, and slid back under the panel.

Lovelace switched to the manual steering mechanism, and the shuttle shuddered as she fought for control. This time it actually seemed to be making a difference.

“How’s it going over there?” Lovelace yelled over the grating sound of the shuttle.

“I can get the flaps up to slow us or we can have the parachute, but it won’t give us both,” said Minkowski, “although at the current temp there’s a good chance the parachute’s already disintegrated. Hilbert?”

“Am not magician,” said Hilbert, “Cannot produce coolant from thin air. I told you before we left that we needed more insulation, but would you listen?”

“Hey!” said Minkowski, “Now is _not_ the time. Petty squabbles _after_ we land. Can you cool this thing down or not?”

Hilbert paused, his hands hovering over the keyboard for a moment before resuming their speedy pace. “The temperature will not be pleasant, but it will be survivable.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” said Minkowski, “Eiffel?”

“Well, right now I _think_ I could get us on a ham radio channel for about three seconds, but if you just give me _one_ \- ow!”

“Sorry,” said Hera, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Hera, I just touched this - oh hello there.”

“Eiffel?”

“Hang on, if I just -” there was sharp crackle sound “owowowow _ow_ , okay, I think I got it!”

“You’ve got the comms back up?” asked Minkowski.

Doug pulled himself out from underneath the panel and began flicking switches.

“Yeah,” said Eiffel, grinning down at the array of lights, “I got the comms back.”

“Congratulations,” said Lovelace, voice strained, “now get on there and _call someone_.”

“Right! Right.” said Eiffel. His hand hesitated over the mic. “Uh, who are we calling exactly?”

“ _Anyone_!” said Lovelace and Minkowski, harmonising their frustration.

“Canaveral,” said Hera, “They’re the most likely to pick up.”

“I knew there was a reason I married you,” said Eiffel, “Canaveral, come in Canaveral, do you copy? This is this is the Officer Doug Eiffel of the, uh, the Hephaestus 2.0, requesting immediate landing assistance, over.”

There was a long pause of static, barely audible over the rattling of the shuttle, and then -

“Hephaestus 2.0 this is Canaveral, say again?”

Eiffel let out a whoop of joy. “Canaveral, we’re the crew of the Hephaestus and we are coming in hot and fast on an unknown trajectory and we could _really_ use a hand here.”

“The _Hephaestus_?” said the voice, “but you’re all - uh. Hold on.” 

A long break of static and then a different, more hardened voice came one. “This is General Christopher Hunter, say again.”

“General, this is Doug Eiffel of the crew of the USS Hephaestus, currently in the most falling-apart-est shuttle known to mankind, and we could really, _really_ use some kind of help with the landing.”

“Give me that,” said Minkowski. She cleared her throat before speaking in the mic. “General, this is Commander Minkowski. Due to events beyond our control we were forced to abandon the Hephaestus and return home. Our shuttle is malfunctioning. We’ve lost most of our controls, but the most pressing is navigation. We are requesting immediate assistance to determine flight path and minimise civilian casualties in the event that we come down in a populated area.” She paused. “Canaveral? Do you copy?”

“We copy, Hephaestus. We’re getting people on it as we speak.”

“Oh, thank god,” said Minkowski.

“You know,” said the General carefully, “we weren’t exactly expecting to hear from you.”

Eiffel snatched the mic from her hand before she could speak. “Rumors of our deaths have been greatly exaggerated.” Off mic, he added. “I always wanted to say that.” 

“Eiffel!” Minkowski took the mic back. “Sorry about that General. I understand this is a somewhat unorthodox means of return, but it was… necessary under the circumstances.”

“Understood,” said the General, “now, let’s see if we can’t bring you all home in one piece.”

\--

All thing considered, it was a smooth landing. It helped that they’d been able to mostly aim for the Californian coast, close enough to the shore that the coast guard was able to be a first responder, but not so close that they’d caused any lasting property damage. Plus, after roasting in the shuttle for the entire re-entry, keeping afloat in the water while they waited for pick up didn’t seem so bad.

“We’re alive!” said Eiffel, pressing a kiss to Hera’s optic nerve. “Best wedding gift ever!”

While they waited, Minkowski kept a close eye on Lovelace and Hilbert, both of whom kept eyeing off the shoreline like they were going to make a break for it. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to swim after them if they tried.

Eiffel, meanwhile, fretted about Hera, holding the compacted AI system above his head while they waited, pointing out things on the distant coastline to her.

“Careful!” said Eiffel, as one of the officers helped him on board, “that’s my wife!”

To her credit, the officer didn’t say anything else, giving Minkowski and strange look over Eiffel’s head. Minkowski just shrugged. It would probably take longer than a boat ride back to shore to explain it.

There was already a crowd of reporters gathered as they got to the dock. Most of them called out general questions, seemingly unaware of who they were. One of them, waving a small notebook, caught Minkowski’s eye.

“Renee! Renee, over here! Phone call for you!”

She stumbled her way over (two years of zero gravity combined with a eventful landing do not make for easy grace), and took the phone. “Hello?”

“Renee?”

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Her legs felt weak, and she quickly steadied herself on the reporter. “David? Is that you?”

“Renee,” said David.

She stood there for a while, neither of them saying much of anything, just basking in the sound of one another’s voices.

\--

Their first post-landing press conference was… well, Minkowski thought it was very much in line with how the rest of their mission had gone. Or in other words, it had started off ordinarily enough and then rapidly went off-book. She did not envy the PR teams assigned to them one bit.

They’d introduced themselves, and started by answering some basic questions - when did your mission leave, when did problems arise, how did you manage to build a shuttle from scraps in the middle of outer space - all very routine stuff.

A reporter had asked about family members. That seemed to go smoothly at first - Lovelace talked about her sisters (currently watching from backstage), Hilbert dodged the question, and Minkowski pointed out her husband in the front row (he turned and waved to the audience and Eiffel wolf-whistled, which the crowd _loved_ even though she was certainly going to have words with Eiffel about acceptable behaviour in front of the media).

Then the reporter got to Eiffel, and asked whether he had anyone special in his life. As Eiffel opened his mouth, Minkowski had an awful flash of what he was about to do, but of course it was too late.

“Me?” said Eiffel, grinning and obviously _delighted_ to answer the question on live television, “Well, I’m married to Hera.”

There was a ripple of laughter.

“But seriously,” said the reporter.

“Now, I’m not really a fan of being serious,” said Eiffel, “but I make an exception for things that are important, and I am 100% serious when I say that I am married to Hera.”

Complete silence.

Another reporter raised their hand. “When did you get married?”

“During re-entry,” said Eiffel, “Thinking you’re about to die really makes you put your priorities in order. I’m just glad Hera felt the same way.”

“Of c-course I did,” said Hera.

The robotic arm Canaveral had added came up clumsily and came down lightly on Doug’s hand. He beamed.

“So when’s your honeymoon?” yelled someone from the back of the room.

“Whenever we get out of here,” said Hera.

Eiffel went bright red. “What she said.”

“If there’s no other questions -” said the moderator, nervously.

A sea of hands shot up.

“Any questions that _aren’t_ about... what was just discussed.”

The hands went down.

“All right, then I think that just about -”

“Is it legal?” someone called out.

“You don’t have to answer that,” said the moderator, quietly.

“What do you mean, ‘is it legal’?” said Eiffel, “Captain Lovelace did it. Captains can officiate marriages, therefore, it’s legal.”

In the audience, David was smothering laughter.

“Look, if you’re asking me whether we have paperwork, then, no, we’ve been a little busy crash-landing and having various body and machinery parts replaced,” said Eiffel, “but I asked her to marry me, and she said yes, and we both meant it, so… I think that should count. I mean, love conquers all, right? Now does anybody have a cheeseburger? Or a pineapple pizza? I haven't eaten solid food in eight light years.”

\--

Apparently, when it comes to legal matters, love conquers some. Eiffel thought they should really change the expression.

They were led to another conference room, for debriefing. A lot of debriefing. A lot of boring, going-over-every-detail-in-triplicate debriefing.

With the US Air Force, with Goddard corporate lawyers, with the Minkowski-Kouldelka team of personal lawyers, with their PR team. Doug was pretty sure he would’ve fallen asleep, or attacked a Suit, or just left, if Hera wasn’t holding his hand. They’d been practising, and the arm Canaveral had given her wasn’t really built for it, but they were making it work. They could make anything work.

The hand holding helps, even as a lawyer drones on and on about sub-clauses, because the reason Hera is holding his hand is because they’re _married_ , and every time he thinks about it he feels like he might burst. No matter what some lawyer decides about the legality of it, they’re _married_ , and it feels like a miracle. Doug can say, with complete certainty, that this is the best thing he has ever done in his life, the one thing he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he got _right_.

Lovelace is in the middle of speaking to her lawyer about legal action they could take against Goddard, and reparations for her first mission, and even at this early stage it was shaping up to be a long, hard slog. Just working out the outline of Lovelace’s case is going to take the rest of the day, and they didn’t really need him for this part of it. He’d be a witness, maybe give supporting statements, but he probably didn’t need to be here. And he’d _definitely_ had enough of being in windowless spaces to last him a lifetime.

“Excuse me, can I borrow your smart phone?” Eiffel asked the room at large, smiling to keep things casual. “Are we at the iPhone 9 now? I want to see what Marvel movies came out while we were on pop culture radio silence.”

Another Suit handed him their phone - James, maybe, or Chris? Lovelace’s entire legal team is made up of suited brunettes and he was having trouble telling them apart.

Doug quietly snuck it under the table, and immediately started googling for wedding rings. I mean, he was _married_ now, and he wanted the world to know that he was a taken man. He wanted the whole world to know that he and Hera were connected, forever.

He looked back up at his hand where it was resting under Hera’s temporary robot hand, and smiled. They’d already been in contact with some state-of-the-art AI technicians in France who were discussing the possibility of making Hera a humanoid suit.

One had winked at Doug directly, making comments about ‘private components’, but it was Hera who had asked to be a part of the physical design. Doug didn’t really care what Hera chose to look like, after all, she was beautiful enough when she had just been a voice. He just hoped she had a hand for him to hold, a hand to put a ring on one day.

“Eiffel,” Hera whispered, whirring quietly as she focused her optic nerve over his shoulder.

She pointed to one on the top right corner of the screen, a deep gold, almost red band with small diamonds around the middle. He’d liked it, but he’d dismissed it as too plain, too small for how he felt about her.

But, if this was what she wanted, then this was what he’d get her. Hera deserved to get everything she wanted.

“Whatever you say, dear,” said Eiffel, pressing a kiss to the small crack in her optic sensor.

\--

Eiffel always felt uncomfortable in formal wear. It wasn’t even so much that it felt more restrictive than a t-shirt and sweatpants, it was that he felt like every time he wore formal wear he was hyper aware of how he wasn’t supposed to get them messed up, hovering on the edge of whatever event he was forced to wear a suit to, trying not to lean against the wall in case the jacket got dirty.

Still, you couldn’t really _not_ wear fancy clothes to a wedding. Or, in this case, a vow renewal. And Minkowski and asked him to, and she _had_ kind of saved his life about, oh, eight hundred times, so it seemed like the least he could do for the Minkowski-Kouldelka Vow Renewal-a-polooza. Plus, you kind of had to look the part when you were the Best Man.

Hera slumped into his shoulder on the car ride there, in a clumsy approximation of lying her head on his shoulder. She’d been upgraded slightly to a more humanoid form while they waited for them to finish her final body. It wasn’t all bad, it let Hera get used to walking, and facial movements, and all the little things she’d only been able to watch humans do, until now.

The ceremony itself was, in true Minkowski style, short and to the point. Doug would have teased Minkowski about it more if he hadn’t cried so much when she’d talked about the milestones she’d missed - birthdays, and Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and anniversaries - this was her way of trying to compress them all into this one moment.

And then came the part Doug had most been looking forward to: the dancing. Or, more specifically, he’d been looking forward to dancing _with Hera_. Now that it came to it, however, Doug felt nervous, wiping his sweaty palm on his pants, even though Hera didn’t have proper sensors installed in her extremities yet so she wouldn’t be able to tell.

“So,” said Doug, looking out at the dance floor.

“Yes?” said Hera.

“Uh, I was thinking,” said Doug hesitantly, “if you wanted to, I mean, if you’d like to - and you totally don’t have to! But I was just thinking maybe -”

“Doug,” said Hera “Would you like to dance?”

“Yes.”

“Because the engineer-s said that I should practise movement and - oh,” said Hera.

“Hera,” said Doug, laughing a little, “of course I want to dance with you. Who else would I ever want to dance with?”

Hera looked out across the dance floor, watching as people swayed to the beat. “Maybe someone who’s more experienced in gro-oss motor control?”

“Hey, Hera, hey,” said Doug. He took both of her hands in his. “There is no one else I’d rather dance with than you.” He grinned. “Besides, we have to have our first dance, and what better place to have our first dance than at a wedding!”

“Vow renewal,” said Hera.

“Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to,” said Eiffel.

The opening strains of ‘We’ll Meet Again’ began to play. It was the kind of slow-dance number Eiffel would have picked for their first dance, if their wedding hadn’t taken place while they were plummeting to Earth.

Eiffel cleared his throat nervously. “So, do you wanna…?”

Hera stood up, offering Eiffel her hand. “Yes.”

“I’ve been watching tutorials on youtube,” said Hera, as they headed onto the dance floor, “I know it’s not real-ly practical experience, but at least I have some idea of what limb should go where.”

“I was thinking we could just take it slow for this first one,” said Eiffel.

Hera’s temporary body was a little taller than him, the machinery covered in a smooth silicone layer. He slid his hands around her waist and leaned into her.

“Like this, see?”

He felt Hera relax a little, leaning back against him. “How’s this?”

“Perfect,” said Eiffel, “Now we just sort of… sway.”

Hera jerkily followed his motions, her movements getting smoother with time.

“That’s it, you got it.”

“So this is dancing,” said Hera, after a few moments.

“Yeah, this is dancing,” said Eiffel. His nerves came back in a rush, “Is it… okay? I mean, do you like it?”

“It feels strange,” said Hera.

“Oh. We can stop.”

“No,” said Hera, “No, it’s okay. It’s a good kind of strange.”

Eiffel smiled up at her. “I’m glad you like it, sweetheart.”

After a moment, Hera smiled back.

\--

Today was the Big Day. Today was the day Hera got her body, the one she’d designed and redesigned and tested. The one that would hopefully last her forever (or, at least until she wanted to upgrade).

She gripped his hand tight on the drive there, worried they were going to be late even though they’d left _hours_ earlier. And really, even if they missed their appointment, Doug was sure she would have gotten her body anyway. This was kind of a big deal. _She_ was kind of a big deal. The first artificial intelligence to have enough mental, emotional, and legal autonomy to choose their own form.

He wasn’t allowed in during her transfer, something about not being “qualified personnel”. Instead, Eiffel paced outside. He kept checking his watch only to find that almost no time had passed.

Minkowski arrived as he was waiting, after what felt like _hours_ but had apparently only been ten minutes.

“Sit _down_ , Eiffel,” said Minkowski, “they know what they’re doing. She’s going to be _fine_.”

“But what if something goes wrong? What if they had bad wiring, or there’s a power surge, or… or… I don’t know.” He flopped down next to MInkowski. “What if something happens and she’s just… gone?”

Minkowski put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. “It’s not going to happen.”

They waited together in silence for a long time. Minkowski occasionally smiling goofily at her phone when she got a text from Koudelka. Doug stared up at the clock, craning his neck every time he heard the door open.

Finally, finally, finally, the head engineer emerged, motioning Doug to follow him.

“Is Hera okay?” said Doug, tugging on the guy’s sleeve, “Did it work?”

“Everything went fine Mr Eiffel, completely as expected.”

“So I can see her?”

“Of course. She asked me to come and find you, she is most anxious to see you.” The engineer held the door open. “She’s right through here.”

Doug took a deep breath, and stepped through.

The room looked like you’d imagine a lab to look, albeit with a lot more half-finished robotic limbs and a lot less beakers. A few other engineers that he recognised from Hera’s meetings were drifting around the room, grinning tiredly at one another.

“Hera?”

“Over here.”

Hera was standing, resting one hand on the long, white lab bench behind her. Her blue-white skin was slightly translucent, and he could faintly see the lights and wiring inside her. She was taller than him, towering over him a little. As she looked down at him, he could see that her optic sensor just how he remembered it, a blue glow from above.

“Hello, beautiful,” said Doug, smiling up at her.

“Hello, Doug,” she said, giving him a small smile in return.

They looked at each other for a moment.

“You know, this is kind of our first meeting,” said Doug, holding out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Hera Hephaestus.”

Hera took his hand, shaking it in an overly professional manner. “Pleased to meet you, Doug Eiffel.”

Her expression changed and she laughed, pulling him towards her. Doug put his hands around her waist, almost on instinct.

“Oh,” said Hera, bringing their bodies closer together, “are we dancing?”

“Yeah, Hera,” said Doug, feeling the warmth coming through her synthetic skin, “we’re dancing.”

Hera hummed as they swayed together, and it took Doug a few moments to place the song. Bach. Orchestral Suite Number  Three, in D Major.

“This is nice,” said Doug, “let’s just enjoy this for a moment.”

Hera resumed humming, and the two of them stayed like that, in a barely-moving embrace, until she finished the song.

**Author's Note:**

> a coda; or, an author note of sorts:
> 
> When the song was done, they stood back as the mechanical engineers and scientists that Doug couldn’t even name applauded, looking pleased with the work they’d done.
> 
> “We’ve very excited to see what you can do with this new body, Hera,” said one of the engineers, walking closer with a data pad.
> 
> “Me too,” Hera answered shyly, before grabbing Doug’s hand in her own and pulling him out the door.
> 
> Doug thought Hera had planned her body perfectly - their hands fit together so easily.
> 
> He couldn’t stop smiling the whole way home, excited to see what his new bride had in store for him.
> 
>  
> 
> \----  
> come say hi: mariusperkins // madelinestarr


End file.
